


Shakespearean Romance

by orphan_account



Series: A Library That Doesn't Exist [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Fae & Fairies, M/M, Masked ball, but only mentioned, magic!!!, the invisible library au, though not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 15:32:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18759277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: They meet three times in one night.Some might call it fate.





	Shakespearean Romance

**Author's Note:**

> this is a prequel to my other fic - The Invisible Library  
> you don't need to have read that to understand this, but it might help
> 
> and here's the same infodump because it might get confusing with no context  
> •Librarians are glorified thieves. they steal books for the Library and then complain bc they never get to read them  
> •Chaos-infused worlds are usually inhabited by Fae, and more ordered ones by Dragons  
> •Librarians also have a fake name, so no one knows their real name. Donghyucks is 'Haechan', Jaemin's is 'Jaemin' because he's an idiot and decided no one would think that his fake name was his real name. Ten's is... you guessed it, 'Ten'
> 
> EDIT: yep i decided that i don't like this work so it's now orphaned :)

_They meet three times in one night._

_Some might call it fate._

 

 

_One_

At first, Ten just wants to leave. Theres a restless itching beneath his skin, a desire to simply slip into the darkness of the night outside. He doubts anyone would realise; it's not like he was even invited, after all, but in the end he simply bites his lip and forces his body to remain still.

He's here for the book.

And once he has that, than he can leave.

Around him, the bodies swirl in a fascinating kaleidoscope of colours. Each person had a delicate mask perched on their nose, bejewelled until the light bouncing off the thousands of tiny diamonds is almost blinding. The silk of the dresses sweeps the marbled floor (Ten has to suppress a smile at the mere thought of comparing layers upon layers of expensive satin and cotton to a broom), but he doubts a single one of these outfits will ever be worn again.

This event  _is_ exclusively for the incredibly rich, after all.

He settles for adjusting his own mask in an attempt to satisfy the pins and needles coursing through his blood stream, and catches a glimpse of his reflection in the surface of a silver plate as a waiter passes.

The likeness of a black at stares back at him.

The mask only covers the space around his eyes , a tiny stretch of skin at his forehead still visible. It curves towards his ears just above his cheek bones, resting on the bridge of his nose comfortably, and completely exposing the lower half of his face. The surface is covered with tiny black jewels, snd though he can't quite identify what they are, he knows that they're expensive.

Maybe too expensive, he thinks, casting his mind back to its intended owner, woman that was now tied up and locked in an empty room a few floors above the ballroom.

He couldn't imagine that someone of that kind of status would let such a thievery off lightly, and really, he had a perfectly decent mask tucked away in the inside pocket of his suit jacket. After tonight, someone was bound to find her, and he doubted that she would rest until he'd been located.

Unluckily for her, Ten didn't plan still be in this miserable Alternate after tonight. All he needed to do was get the book and sneak it out undetected. Then he'd be gone.

And, in his defence, that the cat mask  _really_ hadn't suited her red dress.

Really, he was doing the ball a favour by stopping that fashion atrocity from attending.

He's so lost in his thoughts that when the watch on his wrist vibrates, a subtle signal telling him to get a move on, he stands up immediately. Way too eager to get moving, to leave the stifling false airs of the ball. Not thinking about whether there was anyone in front of him.

And, honestly? With his luck, it's hardly surprising that there is.

Almost as soon as he's on his feet, a tall man practically knocks him over. Ten's sent crashing towards the floor, already wincing as he imagines the impact of the cold marble against his face. He'd be lucky if the mask was left intact, considering the cheap quality he'd discovered it was earlier, and the noise would certainly cause a scene.

A scene that he could not afford to be caught in the middle of.

He needed to retrieve the book  _tonight_. Who knew how long it would take him track it down again, especially since he doubted he'd ever get such an opportunity again.

But a second before he collides with the cold ground, an arm wraps itself around his waist. It  stops him falling any further, helping his back upright.

"Thank you," Ten says on force of habit, before he's even actually seen his saviour. He's too busy brushing the dust off of his expensive suit to pay any mind to the man in front of him.

"No problem," says the man (who Ten is only now just realising is the one who knocked him over in the first place), "I'm not one to let what I can only assume is a beautiful face go to waste. Not at such a high-class event."

Now  _that_ gets Ten's attention.

It's not everyday he gets flirted with, especially not in this line of work, and he could really do with some release. He looks up slowly, peering out from under his fluttering eyelashes only to see that the man has already turned and left.

Ten manages to catch a glimpse of a lion mask before he's lost in the crowd.

 

_Two_

 

The man with the cat mask has burned himself into the back of Johnny's retinas. Even after he turns away, the sight of the black cat mask wont leave him alone. He can see the glinting eyes when he blinks, the image seared onto his eyelids.

Almost as if he'd seen a bright light, the man's face lingers at the back of his vision.

There's something different about him.

Maybe that's where his sudden burst of confidence had come from. God, he can't even begin think about his terrible attempt at flirting. It hadn't even been a good pick up line, nothing impressive about his words at all.

God, he felt like a fool now.

A sudden urge to forget about about his failure rushed though his body. He makes his way over to one of the many bars situated in the large hall and places down a few silver coins, sliding the over to the bartender on the other side.

The stains on the wooden table in front of him seem to transfix him, and the creaking of the wobbly bar-stall beneath him is almost mesmerising in its rhythm. It's only after a large glass of some alcoholic beverage that he didn't recognise has been passed to him that can finally tear his eyes away.

Unsurprisingly, the glass is empty in no time.

Johnny sets it back down on the table with a clink. The edge of his vision is slightly hazy, what he presumes was a side effect from the strong liquor, but something's off.

Despite the foul taste in his mouth, and the burning sensation the liquid had left as he swallowed it, he's barely even tipsy.

Of course.

The Fae were known for their love of theatrics and drama- one thing they all had in common was the egotistical mindset that they were the star in some sort of show. Each Fae would mould themself until they were practically a living stereotype, and he couldn't forget that they thought humans were just pawns in the story they were the main character of.

He should have known that they wouldn't be able to resist the allure of a masked ball.

It had all the appeal of romance and mystery, a kind of irresistible classic atmosphere. Really, it was a miracle that he hadn't realised the place was swarming with Fae earlier.

Johnny pushes the empty cup away, not feeling in the mood for any more alcohol. The light catches the rim of the glass as he moves it, revealing the tell-tale faint letters imprinted into the material. Just as he'd expected.

The hall suddenly seems suffocating. He leaves the bar without another word, and heads to relatively deserted patio.

The huge doors swing out as he pushes against them with barely any force, revealing the cold night. It clings to his skin and pushes its way under his suit until his skin is covered with goosebumps. A cold breeze tugs at his hair, dancing with the few clouds across the star-lit sky. From here, he can make out thousands of individual lights, each glowing brightly against the darkness.

He's so caught up in staring at the them, captivated by their delicate beauty, that the piece of marble-work almost hits him on the head.

Shocked (and with his heart beating embarrassingly quickly), he spins around.

There, just above the arched door that he'd entered through, perched on an impossibly-thin windowsill, is the man in the cat mask.

He's balancing against the delicate carvings of the wall, but one foot hands suspended in the air. The section of the ledge beneath it is missing, where the piece that almost hit him must have come from, and the window he's leaning against was partially open. The glass has been forced open, even Johnny can tell that, and by how suspicious the man in the cat mask looks, it isn't hard to tell who the culprit is. And it's even more obvious what he was attempting to do, considering that the soft light filtering out of the ballroom only illuminates the thief.

They make eye contact for a second.

Then, for some reason that even he did not know, Johnny raises his fingers to his lips. The universal sign for silence, for keeping a secret, and he smiles. The man smiles back, albeit a slightly taken aback, but he mirrors the action in one fluid motion, and slips into the room.

Johnny simply re-enters the ballroom. The cat mask lingers at the edge of his vision again.

 

_Three_

 

The last time they meet is only the last time that night.

It is the not the lat time they see each other by any stretch of the imagination.

What comes after the ball is a conversation that lasts until daybreak, nights spent next to each other, a few more months of flirting, trying to figure out a relationship around the fact that they'd 'clicked' instantly. The attempts to hide secrets that eventually come spilling out anyway, in the way the secrets usually do.

After the ball comes a trust that could never be broken, and something more dear than either of them could have imagined the last time they met that night.

The last time they meet, the building is on fire.

The Fae are dramatic, in the way that Fae usually are. In this case, it involves candle-lit dresses that were slightly too flammable, and a library on the floor above the dance floor.

They meet by the fountain.

While the people around them run past in panic, the chaos practically visible in the heavy wine-scented air. It hangs around them like a gauzy veil, but they only have eyes for each other.

Ten says something.

It's not loud enough that any of the bystanders catch his words, but it makes Johnny smile. He replies, and Ten grins.

They click.

Above them the stars shine. The last few standing marble arches collapse in the flames, the sky lit by steaks of orange and yellow. The air is thick with smoke, grey eventually blocking out every once-twinkling diamond. Their skin glows golden in the light, painted a colour that escapes words.

It's the beginning of a conversation that will last until daybreak.

**Author's Note:**

> QUICK UPDATE  
> yep, I know this isn't the dojae fic i promised yall
> 
> it's also kind of terrible bc JohnTen isn't one of the ships I'm particulally inspired to write about, but at least i tried


End file.
